Hook, line and Bones
by wolfmyjic
Summary: Can Booth teach Brennan to fish? Just a little oneshot about fishing. As mentioned in 'TCASS'. More details inside.


**A/N: If you all remember in 'To Catch a Shooting Star', Booth promises Brennan to take her fishing one-day. Well, -Love-You-Always-And-Forever- PMed me the other day and asked if I was ever gonna write about the trip. Well, you ask and I deliver. Hope you like! Oh, this takes place a few weeks after the end of 'TCASS'...but before the epilogue. So say, in June.**

**Of course the title cames from "hook, line and sinker'.**

**Okay, now enjoy.**

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The sun had been up for less than an hour. Dr. Temperance Brennan followed her partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, down the long, metal dock. Boats lined both sides, and the slight wind was enough to make a few bang against each other. "It was nice of your friend to let us have the boat," Brennan said to Booth's back. She stopped, sat down the cooler she was carrying, readjusted the bag hanging from her left shoulder and then picked the cooler back up. When she caught up to Booth, he was standing at a white and red boat, watching her.

"Nice had nothing to do with it, Bones," he answered. "Owing me a favor did." Booth took the cooler from her as she stopped in front of him. "Hop on." Brennan looked at the small fishing boat. She reached a hand out, grabbed hold of the railing that wrapped around the front of the boat and then stepped across the gap. When both her feet were planted firmly, Booth handed her the cooler. Then the tackle box. Next came the fishing poles. After Booth had handed all their gear to Brennan, he untied all but one of the ropes holding the boat to the dock. He hopped onto the boat, pulled the key from his jeans pocket, and sat down in the captain's seat. The boat started on the first try. "Untie that last rope, Bones," Booth instructed. Brennan did what he asked, and then took a seat next to him.

"Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, as he backed the boat away from the dock. He looked over at her with raised eyebrows as his answer. Neither one spoke as Booth navigated through the water. It wasn't until he pulled to a stop near the bank, about half an hour later, did Brennan speak again. "So what kind of fish are we going to try and catch?" Booth cut the motor off and stood.

"Catfish," he answered as he tossed the anchor in the water with a splash.

"Are there dogfish, too?"

"You're joking, right?" Booth laughed. Brennan shook her head. "No…just catfish." Brennan watched as Booth got the fishing rods rigged up. He pulled a bag from his tackle box.

"What's that?" Brennan asked.

"Shad," he answered, holding up a small, dead fish.

"And what do we do with it?" Brennan wrinkled her nose as the smell made it to her.

"We fish with it." Booth threaded a hook through the fish and stood. "Ready for your first lesson?" Brennan nodded. "Good, now come here." Brennan stood and walked the shot distant to Booth. "Now hold this." He placed the rod in her right hand, and moved to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her body. "This is called a trigger reel," he told her. "Place you index finger on the trigger. Pull it back…now hold it." Booth moved his hand half way up her arm. "Now you're going to pull back, that's right. Now, when I say the word, fling your arm forward and release the trigger. Go." Booth helped her go through the motion. They watched the shad fly through the air and hit the water a good 15 feet out.

"Like that?"

"Just like that, Bones," Booth said and gave her a small kiss on the neck. Brennan shiver.

"See-eee-ley," she said, drawing out his name in a plea for him to stop. Booth just laughed before stepping away, retrieving his own rod and casting out on the opposite side of the boat. "Now what?" Brennan asked after only two minutes of silence.

"Now we wait. You have to give the cat time to find your bait." Brennan nodded and turned back to her line. "Remember to keep your line taut," he told her.

"Taut. Got it." Brennan turned the reel a half of turn tightening up her line. Another five minutes passed. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"How long before the fish bite?" Booth rolled his eyes, before glancing over his shoulder at his _fishing_ partner.

"I don't know, Bones," he told her. "They don't have a schedule or nothing." He heard Brennan sigh, as she sat down on one of the two front seats. Booth shook his head and then let his attention turn back to his own line. He could hear Brennan moving in her seat. He rolled his eyes upward and said a silent prayer.

"Booth?" Brennan asks after another five minutes.

"Yes, Bones," Booth says, hoping that he was able to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"How long are we going to seat here?"

"Until we catch a fish." Booth closed his eyes. _Who knew she would have no patience out here? _he said to himself. Booth was beginning to relax. The warmth of the sun beating down on him was loosening his shoulders and pulling his mind off to wonder at random things. He laid his rod down, lifted his baseball cap, and ran a hand through his hair. As he replaced his cap he heard Brennan move. He knew it was coming.

"Booth?" He took a deep breath and let it out before he answered.

"Yes, Temperance?" He picked his rod back up.

"I don't think there's any fish here. Maybe we should move."

"God give me strength," he said under his breath.

"What?" Booth looked over his shoulder at her. She had her brows drawn together.

"There _are_ fish down there, Bones. Mike is a guide…this is one of _his_ spots. You just have to be patience. We've only been here,"-he glanced at his watch- "25 minutes." Brennan let out a loud sigh and slummed down. Her shoulders sagging.

"I don't think I'm a very good fisherman," she finally said.

"Don't be silly, Bones. You just don't know what to expect. But once you pull in your first fish, you'll be able to sit out here for hours."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Just give it 20 more minutes. If you haven't caught anything, we'll pull in and just do some boat riding. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Brennan answered, but Booth could tell she wasn't happy. It was 10 minutes into their agreed time when Brennan spoke again. "Booth?"

"What is it now, Bones?"

"What does it mean when the rod bends over?" Booth quickly turned to look at her. He dropped his own rod and closed the small distant between him and her.

"It means you've got a fish." Brennan's face lit up.

"What do I do? What do I do?"

"Okay, give him a little slack. Your line is too tight. Hold your rod down a little…that's good. Let him pull a little." They both watch her line zip one way and then another. Finally it stilled. "Okay, now pull your rod up and as you let it come back down, you need to reel in you line some. Just keep doing it until I say otherwise."

"That wasn't a very big fight," Brennan said, as she did what she was told. "Must be a small fish."

"Can't say that, Bones. You haven't pulled him in yet." About that time Brennan felt a huge tug on her line and it began to move again.

"Let him pull, Bones. Let him wear himself out. Okay, now reel." Once again Brennan reeled. This went on for a few minutes, until the fish was close enough for them to see. Booth quickly picked up the net and leaned over the side to scoop the fish up. "Just a little closer, Bones," he instructed. When Brennan was able to pull the fish in another foot, Booth captured it. He brought the net back into the boat. He reached in and pulled out the ugliest fish Brennan had ever saw. It was sorta flat with a big gulping mouth and what looked like spikes-or razor blade whiskers- coming off it's face and other parts of its body.

"Is that a cat?"

"Sure is," Booth said, looking up with a smile. "About a 10 pounder. Good job, Bones." Brennan smiled at the compliment. Booth carefully removed the hook and strung the fish up on a long piece of heavy string with a six inch metal bar at one in.

"What's that for?" Brennan asked.

"So we can put him back in the water but tie him to the boat."

"We're keeping it?"

"Of course," Booth said, holding the fish out to her. "We're going to clean it and then cook it." Brennan wrinkled up her face at the thought.

"That's okay, Booth, I don't want it." She held out her hands, palms toward him.

"Here, just hold it for a minute. I have to get a picture."

"Why?"

"For my _scrapbook_, okay," he said shortly. "Now, just grab the rope and hold it." Brennan reluctantly did what Booth asked. He pulled a camera from his tackle box and snapped three pictures. "Beside," he said as an after thought. "Angela is paying me good money for a picture of you and a fish." The peacefulness of the lake was broken by Booth's laughter as Brennan took off her hat and threw it at him.

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_That's it. It's done. Just a little one shot. Please review._

_And if something happened in any of my fics or if you have an idea you would like me to try my hand at. Feel free to PM me about it. I'm always open for __Suggestions._

_Wolfy_


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